Guillaume Apollinaire

Autumn Ill Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire

Autumn ill and adoredYou die when the hurricane blows in the roseriesWhen it has snowedIn the orchard treesPoor autumnDead in whiteness and richesOf snow and ripe fruitsDeep in the skyThe sparrow hawks cryOver the sprites with green hair the dwarfsWho’ve never been lovedIn the far tree-linesthe stags are groaningAnd how I love O season how I love your rumblingThe falling fruits that no one gathersThe wind the forest that are tumblingAll their tears in autumn leaf by leafThe leavesYou pressA crowdThat flowsThe lifeThat goes